A Matter of Time
by Ashliebelle
Summary: A woman from Harry's future is pulled into the past, into the time of Voldemort's father. She knows what lies ahead for the wizarding world, but gets caught up in her own fantasy life. Written preHBP
1. The Time Turner

"You know, you look so familiar."

"What?"

"I know I'm probably making a complete fool of myself. I do know you! You defeated Voldemort!"

"You must be joking..."

"Unfortunately, I'm serious. I'm terrible with names! I know you, but I don't remember names... Harry Potter!"

The thin-nosed, pretty woman smiled triumphantly. Her dark brown hair blew into her face, and she pulled it behind her ear.

"I have to admit, Monica, you're the first person I've met in a long while who hasn't recognized me nor known my name," Harry said with a slight chuckle. "Not a terrible feeling, actually. A pleasant change from the norm."

She smiled. "Well, I did know your name... eventually. I'm really interested in history, just not recent history. But, I do know who you are." They laughed into the cold night air, walking past darkened windows of muggle shops.

Even though the two of them had only met earlier that evening, they laughed as if they were long lost best friends. Monica had been at muggle pub, sitting at the bar with an untouched bottle in front of her when Harry came in and joined her. The two of them had made idle muggle talk at the bar, when Monica slipped up and said that her Quidditch team was doing poorly this year. She embarrassedly tried to explain herself when Harry told her that he, too, was a wizard. In order to escape curious muggle ears, they left the pub and continued their conversation outdoors.

It wasn't until they were outside when Monica had recognized Harry for who he was.

After that, the conversation turned to their years at Hogwarts. Monica was a year younger than Harry, and had been in Ravenclaw, but was admittedly socially withdrawn during her years there.

"I grew up alone with my mother," she explained to Harry. "She wasn't exactly the best influence. She wouldn't let me out of the house at all. I was pretty much stuck in my room every day."

"Unfortunately, I know what you mean," Harry replied sullenly.

"She was mad, though. And I didn't realize it until I went to Hogwarts. My first year was the year the Chamber of Secrets was opened."

"Ah yes," Harry remembered. "'Enemies of the Heir, Beware'."

"Well, this is going to sound really sick," Monica said cautiously, "but when I was a little kid, my mother convinced me that I was the Heir of Slytherin."

"Why?" Harry asked, awestruck.

"She had some kind of obsession with her bloodline. She had books filled with unpronounceable names, and at the very beginning of it all was Slytherin himself. When the Chamber was opened, I thought that I must have had something to do with it, even though I didn't even do anything. Then I found out that Voldemort had really been the heir, and he certainly wasn't my grandfather, so I knew I wasn't the heir, and that my mother had been lying to me my whole life. She might have even written the books herself."

They both fell silent as they walked hand-in-hand.

"Listen to me," Monica laughed nervously, "talking about my insane mother to Harry Potter."

"Don't feel bad," he reassured her with a squeeze of his hand. "You're in good company if you want to talk about insane relatives."

But they didn't talk about insane relatives at all for the rest of the night. They reached Harry's house, and he invited her inside.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm due back in London early tomorrow--"

"You can apperate, can't you?" Harry asked slyly.

"Of course I can--"

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

Monica tried to look serious, but a smile managed to break through.

"Okay."

The next morning, Monica found herself in a frantic rush to get ready. Monica worked at the Ministry of Magic, in a branch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, specializing in the regulation and protection of time travel and time travel devices. Ironically, Monica wished for more time as she was late for work. With a quick kiss goodbye, she apperated away from Harry's house outside of her own, which was miles away. She quickly got dressed and was almost ready to disapperate from her home when she realized she was wearing two different colored shoes.

'Darn! How could I have lost track of time like that?' she thought. Not that she hadn't enjoyed herself with Harry, but she should have left a few more minutes for herself to get ready. She hurriedly pulled a different shoe onto her left foot, blowing her brown hair out of her face.

She disapperated and appeared directly into her office, something she didn't normally try to do because the office wasn't very large and a slight miscalculation could send her into the men's toilet next door. Not to mention the nasty memo she'd receive from the head of her department, reminding her to apperate in the atrium and not into her office.

As she sat down at her desk, a woman with a thin nose and brown hair entered the room. It looked like an exact replica of Monica.

The Monica sitting at her desk turned towards the door.

The Monica standing up smiled and said, "9:30 one turn. For Dr. Fillmore" She then left the office.

The Monica sitting at the desk began looking through her files until she found Dr. Fillmore, a highly respected brain surgeon. He had needed a time-turner before, to perform two necessary and life-saving surgeries that would have otherwise overlapped with each other. Monica predicted this was the case again.

The clock on the wall ticked to 9:15 and just as her double had warned her, an owl swooped into Monica's office bearing a note from Dr. Fillmore. She checked his records again, to make sure he had been keeping with the law since his last ownership of a time-turner. He hadn't made any sort of infractions, so Monica unlocked the bottom drawer to her desk, and pulled out the time-turner.

It was part of her job to make sure the time traveling devices were safe and in proper working order, so every time someone needed a time-turner, Monica was required to test the device on herself.

Monica draped the thin gold chain around her neck, and glanced at her watch. 9:30 -- right on time -- and gave it one turn.

When the sensation of flying backwards ceased, Monica set her watch to 8:30, put the time-turner back into the drawer, and went to the ladies' room to finish putting on her makeup. If there was one advantage of being in the time-travel office, it was the extra hours of break time on certain days.

Very few people had ever been trained in the concepts of time-travel. It had always been a fascination of Monica's. She had owned one book about time-travel as a child, and when her mother kept her locked in her room for days at a time she found solace in the intricacies of the theories involved with time-travel. When she joined the ministry, she went through extensive training, some of it concerning how to cope with seeing a double of herself. It is very dangerous to meet with one's self after time travel, but Monica became used to it, and she had even figured out ways of helping her past self through the day.

Monica was about to take Dr. Fillmore's file out for herself, so that it would be ready for her when she got there, but realized it hadn't been taken out for her earlier, so she shouldn't do it. At 9:00, Monica went to her office to alert herself that at 9:30 she'd have to make one turn, for Dr. Fillmore.

It took a certain kind of mind to be in Monica's profession.

This day was far less dull than Monica's normal days. Since Dr. Fillmore didn't need the time-turner for an extended period of time, she went to the hospital herself to deliver it, and stuck around, making sure both of his bodies were kept far away from each other during the operations to prevent him from seeing himself.

When the day was over, Monica locked the time turner back into the drawer and sighed. She thought about what Harry was doing, and whether or not he would ever remember her. While she hoped it hadn't just been a one-night-stand, her logic took over and somehow knew it wouldn't have worked out between them. So it was with every relationship she had ever been in. She was a beautiful young woman, but her odd obsession with time travel and her strange inability to keep friends for a long period of time kept her from becoming attached to anyone in her world.

As Monica got ready for bed, her thoughts drifted from Harry to a familiar, strange yearning to live in medieval times. Her dream was to travel back in time many years and live out her retirement in the past. She promised herself that if she was sent back, she would let her future self know. Unfortunately, she never found anything to suggest that she ever got sent to the past, so her dream had always remained a dream.

The next day was dull, and so was the the day after that. Nobody required a new time-turner, and the few who had access to one were using it responsibly, so she had nothing to do except busy herself with paperwork.

It surprised her when she received an owl around noon, bearing a note from someone who wished a time-turner. It was a witch named Annie Harr who was prescribed an extra hour of daylight due to seasonal depression. If Monica had tested a time turner, she would have warned herself, or given herself some kind of clue as to when she'd need to have a time-turner records ready. Perhaps Annie Harr wouldn't have the best criminal record and Monica wouldn't have to test it. But Annie Harr was responsible and without criminal record, and the time came to test the time-turner.

Monica knew she couldn't travel while in her office, because she had been in the office an hour earlier. She needed to find a good place, where she wouldn't bother anyone, or anyone who might be around that area an hour before. She reminded herself that she couldn't make contact with herself at all, so she went far from her office, into the oldest section of the Ministry building that had been there for decades. She found herself a broom closet, where she wouldn't appear into anybody's past self, and prepared herself for travel.

For a fleeting moment, she considered not testing it, but the moment passed, and Monica held the tiny time-turner in her hand. While she was flipping it upside down, she noticed a thin crack in the glass. Though it was thin, a few miniscule grains of sand trickled out of the time-turner.

Monica gasped, reaching out to try to catch the magical sand. She dropped the time-turner so that it hung loosely around her neck. She felt more grains of sand fall down her shirt.

"No!" she exclaimed, as the familiar sensation of backwards flying took over. Monica was flying back faster than she ever remembered, and the familiar sensation was replaced by a frightening one. Monica felt as if she had fallen all of the way backward, but there was no floor to hit so she kept spinning backwards as if gravity was pulling her in giant circles, and it seemed like ages until the feeling stopped.

When she was done, surprisingly still standing on her own two feet, the time-turner was completely empty of its small supply of magical sand.

'Oh no,' she thought frantically, looking at the old-fashioned door. It hadn't been the same door she had used a moment ago. The closet was no longer as dirty, nor as full as it had been. In fact, it looked like it was being used as a real broom closet, and not just for storage. The names of some of the brooms were carved into the wood.

"Pegasus 20?" she gasped aloud, reading the unworn letters on the broom closest to her. The Pegasus series had been phased out in the late 1930's, and yet here was one, new as it could possibly look.

The brass handle turned, and Monica jumped. She swallowed dryly, unsure of who, or when would be on the other side.


	2. Friendly Faces

Monica stupidly tried to find a place to hide, but such places are scarce in a closet filled with broomsticks. When the door opened, Monica tried to look casual, as if she had meant to close herself in the broom closet.

Unfortunately, Monica had never been a very good actress, and it was quite obvious to her discoverer that she had not meant to close herself in the broom closet.

"Just what do you think you are doing in there?" Monica was spared having to come up with a lie, but only due to the fact that the wizard who found her thought he knew exactly why she was in the closet. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the corridor. He was a skeletally thin man with robes that bulged at every joint as if they had been thrown over a skeleton instead of a real man.

"So you're the one who's been nicking the broomsticks!"

"No, I… I haven't been! It wasn't me!" Monica sputtered, trying to pull out of the thin man's grasp.

"There's a detector spell on that closet, missy." He pointed his bony index finger at the closet's door. "Anyone appears inside without opening the door, and I know about it! Thought you could steal another handful of brooms, eh? I knew that someone was disapperating away with them…"

"I apperated incorrectly, I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly.

"What?"

"I've – I've only just got my license and I miscalculated."

"Is that true? Then what's your name? I can bring you right down to the transportation office and we'll see when you got your license." For being a terribly thin man, he had a terribly strong grip, and Monica could feel it tightening over her arm, as if he knew she was desperate to escape the lie she had just told. What could she do? She didn't know what year it was; she might not have even been born yet! They wouldn't have any record of her real name and then she'd be in big trouble for giving a false name.

"Monica Rivenn," she answered the man, truthfully and quietly.

"Follow me, then, missy. And give me your wand."

Deciding it would be best to not make a scene, Monica handed the man her wand and followed him quietly towards the elevator. She looked at each passing witch and wizard imploringly, searching for clues as to what year it could be. Hairdos were the biggest giveaway, as wizard attire never changed much over the years. It was between 1900 and 1950, but she didn't have enough time to look long enough to get a better estimate.

A group of older teenaged witches, not too much younger than Monica, were gabbing loudly with each other, and Monica managed to catch the eye of one of them, a blonde witch. Monica glanced significantly at the thin man and then shook her head at the onlooking girl, hoping that she would realize she needed help.

"Hey! There you are!" the girl said excitedly at Monica, who had to suppress a relieved grin. The other girls in the group stopped their conversations and looked on curiously.

"You know her?" the man asked.

"Yes sir," she replied stepping in their path.

"Too bad," he said, obviously annoyed that she had stopped their progress. "She's on her way downstairs for a little chat with the head of the Department of Transportation."

"Please, I don't know what she did to get in trouble, but we're going to be late without her."

"Well, she was... she was"

"I'm so glad you made it," the girl said to Monica, casually taking the man's hand off Monica's arm, and taking back Monica's wand for her. He was so surprised by her initiative that he wasn't grasping either Monica's arm or wand very tightly.

"Let's hurry," the blonde girl said.

The man stood in the center of the corridor, confused. "Hey... wait!"

But Monica had her wand in hand, and she and the group of girls were already trotting quickly towards the atrium.

"Someone stop them!" the thin man shouted, starting after them.

"Let's apperate to the creek," the blonde girl told the four other girls, who each nodded in agreement, but Monica didn't know what to do. She couldn't apperate somewhere unless she knew where exactly it was.

They reached the Atrium, and ran to the disapperating area and each of the four other girls waved their wands and disappeared.

"What do I" she started to ask the blonde girl, but the girl was already waving her wand complexly. She pointed it at Monica and finished the incantation. Monica was surrounded by a blue light, and the feeling of disapperation took over. A second later, she was stumbling forward on a beaten dirt path, surrounded by trees. The other four girls were there although one of them was a little ways off.

"Come on, Nancy!" the three laughed at the one that was far away. "You can't apperate anywhere!"

The blonde witch appeared.

"Thank you so much!" Monica said. "I don't know what to say; you got me out of a real fix."

"Don't mention it," she said, smiling brightly. "I even work at the Department of Transportation, so I can make sure this is all forgotten."

"Amazing," Monica marveled. "Transportation... is that why you know how to make other people apperate?"

"Sure is! Not many people can, obviously, but it's part of my job. I can fix a splinch or what have you... what's your name, by the way?"

"Monica."

"I'm Beverly," the blonde girl said. "And this is Harriet, Wendy, Ethel, and that's Nancy down the path."

Monica nodded and smiled, instantly forgetting each of their names.

"How old are you?" one of them asked.

"24," Monica replied, hoping the conversation wouldn't turn to Hogwarts.

"So what's your story?" Beverly asked. "I'm pretty sure I didn't just help out a criminal."

"I'll tell you... but may I first ask one thing?" Monica took a breath. "Could you tell me what year it is?"

The girls looked at each other cautiously.

"Excuse me?" Beverly asked.

"The year. I need to know the year, and the month and day if you could."

There was stunned silence.

"1960!" one of them answered, and all of them except Beverly laughed.

"Of course!" the curly haired one giggled, "you're living in the future!"

"Stop it, Nancy." Beverly said. "She's serious."

"What, has her memory been modified or something?" Nancy asked Beverly.

"I'm right here," Monica said, trying not to sound cross. "You don't have to talk as if I'm not listening."

"You tell us your story, and we'll tell you what year it is," Nancy said.

Monica wondered if it wouldn't have been better to stay with the thin man at the Ministry building. Could she tell them the truth?

She took another breath. "I fell off my broomstick, or at least I think I did. I woke up next to it, and I couldn't remember being on it, so I apperated to the Ministry building for help"

"I can see why that wizard thought you were up to no good," Beverly interrupted. "You're a terrible liar."

"Fine! Do you really want to know? I work at the Ministry of Magic, with time-turners. I was testing one to see that it was in working order, and it broke after I turned it," Monica pulled on the chain around her neck until the time-turner reached her hand. She held the tiny, empty hourglass out, and they all moved closer to see it. "I went back in time, but I have no idea how far back. That's how I got in trouble with that man."

The girls all pulled back. There was a long silence that contained many exchanged glances. The witch Monica thought was called Ethel broke the silence.

"What's a time-turner?"

Monica was taken aback. "What?"

"She asked what a time-turner is," Beverly said.

"You don't know?"

"Is that one?" one of them asked, pointing at the hourglass around her neck.

Another laughed, "That's just a charm."

"I forgot," Monica sighed. "Time-turners weren't taken out of the Department of Mysteries until 1930... It's before 1930, isn't it?"

Another awkward silence threatened to swell into the conversation, but Beverly stilted it with a laugh.

"Monica," she chuckled, "I don't know what happened to you, but it must have been bad. It's 1926, September 20th. Do you have a husband, a family, any friends to stay with?"

"No," Monica answered.

"Well, you're going to stay with us, until we discover where you belong."

The other girls didn't look as if they liked this sudden turn of events, but none of them said anything. Monica knew that Beverly didn't believe her story, but she was offering a safe place to live, and Monica wasn't in a position to turn that down.

"That sounds good."

"We'd better start back home," the curly-haired one said to Beverly. "It's getting dark."

"Why can't we apperate?" Monica asked.

"We live in a muggle town, and we don't want to accidentally be seen," said Beverly, starting her way up the path.

The atmosphere between Monica and the other girls was somewhat stilted, but Beverly managed to lighten the mood enough for them to be laughing and telling stories in no time. Monica discovered that the girls had all graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and moved to the small muggle town together.

Beverly was clearly the leader of the group, but Monica quickly learned how each girl fit in, even though she couldn't remember any of their names. Nancy, the one who apperated further away from the group, was notoriously bad at casting spells, but the other girls explained that she was an amazing potion-maker. Ethel, the tallest of the group, was a soft spoken young woman who worked with a wand-maker in Diagon Alley. Wendy was quite loud and animated as she told Monica that she still wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do with her life, as long as she found a nice wizard to share her life with. Harriet was the quietest during their walk, but Monica sensed it wasn't because she was a quiet person; Harriet had an intense look about her, and her laughter was stilted during conversation. Monica could tell that Harriet didn't like her at all.

The dirt path turned into a stone one as it approached the town. Small houses and stores lined the twilight-lit main street. A woman was calling out to her sons to come inside and get to bed. It was quaint and foreign to Monica, but nonetheless pleasing in a way.

The full weight of traveling back in time began to press onto Monica's thoughts. There was no way to get back; she was here for good. She was going to spend the rest of her life in the past, as she had always secretly wanted. What kind of effect would she have? She kicked herself for having no memory of names, or else she'd be able to look up famous wizards and witches before they were famous.

"Monica?"

Beverly woke Monica from her daze. They had reached the house. The thin, two-story building was wedged between a pub and an ice cream parlor near the edge of town.

"It's wonderful," Monica grinned.

"You're just saying that because you don't know any better," Beverly laughed. "I'm sure we can get you some kind of muggle job around town to pay for rent and clothes and whatever else you need until you find your head."

Monica almost protested that her head did not need to be found, but bit her tongue and just nodded. She could get a muggle job for now, until she figured out a way to get her name, legally, into the Ministry of Magic for a proper job.

That night, Monica could hardly sleep. Every warning she had been given throughout her training was buzzing through her head. Nothing was going to happen, she said to herself, trying to relax. She was going to live out her life normally, once everything got sorted out.

The only thing that bugged her was the fact that her future self had never gotten a sign that she had traveled back in time. Why hadn't she? Now she couldn't send a sign, because she had never gotten one while in the future, so sending one would be pointless.

"Maybe I sent one, and it never got to me?" she thought to herself, but that was absurd. If it never got to her, why would she even bother sending it, knowing that it wouldn't get there? She could send something to her friends, telling her what happened, but she reminded herself that she didn't have any friends who would be looking for her.

Except perhaps Harry Potter. It had been only a couple of days, and he never contacted her again, but maybe he would try to find her. Maybe, she thought, I should send some kind of message for him to find after my disappearance.

Sleep finally took Monica, and she dreamed of her night with Harry Potter, knowing that there was no way for her to ever see him again, and wondered if he'd be looking for her, eighty years into the future.


End file.
